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Friday, July 14, 2017

`Every Little Circumstance'

It
ranks among Dr. Johnson’s greatest hits, known by hearsay even by those who
have never read Boswell’s Life of Johnson:

“Idleness
is a disease which must be combated; but I would not advise a rigid adherence
to a particular plan of study. I myself have never persisted in any plan for
two days together. A man ought to read just as inclination leads him; for what
he reads as a task will do him little good.”

The
schoolmarms among us will quibble, but Johnson’s prescription is correct for those
of us already reliant on free-range reading. I hate to be told to read a book, even casually, and even one I’m already
predisposed to reading. I’ve refused for years to read certain volumes I was
ordered to read. Not reading some books is at least as important as reading others.
This is an aspect of the most precious of all our rights: the right to be left
alone. Boswell observes of Johnson’s diktat: “To a man of vigourous intellect
and arduous curiosity like his own, reading without a regular plan may be
beneficial; though even such a man must submit to it, if he would attain a full
understanding of any of the sciences.”

Johnson
was speaking to Boswell on this date, July 14, in 1763. The pair had met less
than two months earlier. Their unlikely friendship was deepening. Johnson was
fifty-three; Boswell, twenty-two. In The
Journals of James Boswell, 1762-1795, we find a less polished but more
personal version of the same exchange, set in the Mitre public house on Fleet
Street. Johnson dispenses with James Macpherson, the Scottish poet and fraud: “`So
would he tumble in a hog-sty,’ said Johnson, `as long as you look at him and
cry to him to come out. But let him alone, never mind him, and he’ll soon give
it over.’”

Johnson
gives a toast to Sir David Dalrymple, the Scottish judge and historian who Boswell
tells him had praised Rasselas and The Rambler. Then Boswell paraphrases his
friend: “Mr Johnson considered reading what you have an inclination for as
eating what you have an appetite for.” Next comes a comic ritual played out by
the pair:

“. . . Mr. Johnson said, `We will not drink
two bottles of port.’ When one was drank, he called for another pint; and when
we had got to the bottom of that, and I was distributing it equally, `Come,’
said he, `you need not measure it so exactly.’ `Sir,’ said I, `it is done.’
`Well, sir,’ said he, `are you satisfied? or would you choose another?’ `Would
you, Sir?’ said I. `Yes,’ said he, `I think I would. I think two bottles would
seem to be the quantity for us.’ Accordingly, we made them out.”

The
sharing of the port seems to seal the bond of their new friendship. What
Boswell next describes gives the lie to Johnson’s reputation as a combative ogre,
and suggests that Boswell already had his eye on a future life of Johnson (not
published until 1791, seven years after Johnson’s death):

“I
take pleasure in recording every little circumstance in so great a man as Mr
Johnson. This little specimen of social pleasantry will serve me to tell as an
agreeable story to literary people. He took me cordially by the hand and said,
`My Dear Boswell! I do love you very much.’ I will be vain, there’s enough.”